Over the River and Through the Woods
by Steven Moffat
Summary: Sherlock chased the killer up into the entrance of a darkened woods, and he was about to venture in when John grabbed him by the sleeve. "Sherlock, no one's ever gone into those woods and lived to tell the tale."


Sherlock chased the killer up into the entrance of a darkened woods, and he was about to venture in when John grabbed him by the sleeve. "Sherlock, no one's ever gone into those woods and lived to tell the tale."

Sherlock yanked his sleeve from his partner. "If you're so scared, make a trail of bread crumbs leading up to the entrance." He said mockingly, and ducked in, not waiting for John to join him.

Slowly, he jumped some creeks, and made his way around the branches, staying completely silent to hear the killers steps.

Or to his right he heard a branch break, and he pounced on the moving object, only to find John under him. "Really John? You sound like a elephant walking on bubble wrap."

John stood up, and brushed himself off, "Funny Sherlock." He looked around. "Sherlock, where are we?"

Sherlock spun around, looking right and left, back and forth. "I-I don't know. I lost track."

John gave him a skeptical look, "Those bread crumbs would be good right about now, wouldn't they?" John said in a flat voice, mocking him now.

"I suggest we just head straight, and hope we find the killer." Sherlock said, and started to walk forward, when he stepped into a squishy pile of dead, well, something. "What the hell?" He picked up his foot, and leaned in, taking a whiff of the corpse, and examining the mutilated limbs.

"By, god," John said in horror, "Is that-"

"It WAS a human body." Sherlock said flatly as he straightened himself. "You did say that no one has ever gotten out of these woods alive, and here's exhibit A." He smiled, "Care to find out why?"

John shook his head, but smiled, "Might as well have a go. Lead the way." the two men walked forward, and Sherlock trusted his scent to lead the way. They had passed two more almost mashed up bodies before Sherlock stopped and sniffed the air. "My nose seems to be wrong." Sherlock said incredulously.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I smell food, not bodies anymore." John's stomach rumbled almost on command, and Sherlock gave him a distasteful look. "You forgot to eat before we left, didn't you?"

"Pardon me, Mr. 'I only eat on days that begin with T'!" John said, crossing his arms. "Maybe there's someone in the woods who lives here. Possibly a killer?" Sherlock perked up at the word 'killer.'

"Fine," He sighed, "Let's continue looking." They headed to the scent of the food, and almost instantly came upon a log cabin. An old woman sat up front, and seemed to be doing a cross stitch. "See John, it's just an old lady, nothing of importance."

"We should still tell her that a killer is loose in the woods and she should be safe." John admitted, and started to yank at Sherlock, the scent of food almost over powering him. "Um, ma'am?" The old woman stopped what she was doing and looked over, smiling in John's direction. "We're here to inform you-"

"Hello you two! Always nice to see a couple walking about in the woods." She said, directing it to John.

"No," He shook his head as Sherlock shifted his feet, annoyed, "We're not a couple."

"That's a shame." The old woman stood up and started to walk down the steps, "My, you two look half starved! I just made myself dinner, if you want to come in and stop for a bite."

"Oh, we really-" Sherlock started, but the woman cut him off.

"No, no, I made more than I need. Come, come!" She huddled them inside, and locked the door behind him. Sherlock scrunched his nose at rotting flesh, but that was what all old people smelled like to him. "Here, come sit over here." She brought them to a table that was stained a crimson color. It went well with the brown walls, and was stuffed with corn bread, green beans, mashed potatoes, and at least 5 steaks. "Take all you like." The woman smiled, and John ran straight for the table, layering his plate with food.

He was halfway done with his meal when Sherlock came to sit at the table. "Thank you ma'am." John said, remembering to swallow before talking. Sherlock just leaned back, and examined the carpet as the woman walked past.

Before John finished, his eyes started to shut. "God, I'm tired," He yawned. "I, must have- eaten too much." He started to sway, and Sherlock was alert, noticing that the woman hadn't come out of the kitchen for a while.

"John, give me your food, and stay awake." John lazily passed his food to Sherlock keeping his head up by his hands. Sherlock sniffed the food, and stood up, appalled. "She drugged you John- John? John!" John had fallen off his chair, and was laying unconscious on the floor. The old lady came through the doors, hobbling on a cane. "You drugged him!" Sherlock cried.

"Why I would never do such a thing!" The woman cried, and gasped at John on the floor. "You pick him up and bring him to the couch, I'll get some tea." Sherlock leaned down to pick John up, not noticing the old woman walking behind him. "Nighty night, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." The woman said menacingly, and hit Sherlock with her cane, knocking him out.

* * *

When Sherlock and John came to, they were tied back to back in two chairs. Sherlock tried to struggle against his bonds, but they were tied to tight, and everything came together. "Oh, how could I have been played like a child's toy?" He cried. "Of course!"

A woman in her 30's came in, ruffling her grey hair, and wiping away aging makeup from her face. "Playing with you two is so much fun." She said, twirling a knife in her hand. "My master said that it would be."

"Moriarty." John said, and shook his head, "Now it makes sense."

"So the 'killer' I was chasing was just a coy?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, trying his best to slide his pocket knife from his coat sleeve.

"Of course it was sweetheart!" The woman laughed, "Yes, he did kill those people, but it was just for you to chase him to me. My master said you were fresh meat, tender meat. I would barely have to cook you."

John strained a bit, "Sorry, cook?"

"She's a cannibal John," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Do try and keep up."

"Listen to your buddy Mr. Holmes." The woman said. "I won't be long, I need to prepare the appetizer before I cut the main curse." She smiled evilly, and walked away, heading into another room.

"John, I've almost got my pocketknife out of my sleeve," Sherlock whispered, "Once I get it free, start to cut yourself loose. And try your best not to be fazed by the screaming."

"What-" A shrill shriek was heard from the room the woman had entered seconds before. "She's not- she isn't really-"

Sherlock dropped the knife into John's hands, "Yes she is, now start to do yourself."

John shook his head, still groggy from the drugs, but started to cut at his ropes, trying to comprehend what was happening. The smell of rusted copper and zinc, otherwise known as blood filled the air, jamming it's way up the twos nose, and making the experience horrible for them.

"I'm guessing downstairs is where she keeps the food she saves for the winter, going by the smell." Sherlock said, and tried to yank at the bonds again, sending a searing pain up his arm. "Great, I broke a bone in my wrist." The screaming suddenly stopped, sending a chill down Sherlock's spine.

Moments later the woman returned, her hair, face, and clothes specked or drenched in blood. A dagger dripping the red liquid was head high in her hands, and she smiled, her eyes crazed. "Who's next? I think I'll start with the leaner cut." She headed to Sherlock, and leaned to his ear, whispering, "Isn't it sad that you defeated a mastermind, only to be defeated by a girl?" She smirked, and straightened, raising the dagger above her. With one large movement, she jabbed down, stabbing into Sherlock's thigh.

"OWWWWWWW!" Sherlock screamed, blood spreading all over his pants. The woman retracted her dagger, smiling as she did so. "You- ruined-my-pants!" Sherlock said through clenched teeth.

The woman laughed and went to stab him again in the shoulder, but John pushed her aside, the knife flying off to the left. "You don't hurt MY FRIEND!" John said, and grabbed the woman by her neck, snapping it like a twig. She dropped down, her crazed hallow eyes looking up to John Watson.

John stood up, shaking a bit, but feeling better than he had in a while. "Sherlock, you alright?" He asked over his shoulder.

"Oh, just have a broken wrist, and am bleeding to death slowly from a stab wound, but other than that I'm just peachy." Sherlock said, biting his lip hard enough to break the skin, and his lip started to bleed.

John rushed to the knife, and cut off Sherlock's bonds in a snap. Sherlock slung a hand over John's shoulder, and put his weight on his friend. "Another case solved?" Sherlock smiled weakly, and John chuckled.

"Yes, alright. Now you try your best not to move, and I'm going to try and find the exit."

"Oh, it's just 2 miles south."

John looked at his friend, "Wait, you knew?" He asked angrily.

"Of course I knew. I am never lost. I just wanted to find the killer. Apparently we found and stopped something bigger than a killer in doing so."

John almost threw Sherlock off of him, "Are you serious. No, you're joking. You can't be serious." John sighed deeply. "You know what Sherlock? Keep that mouth of yours shut until I get you to the hospital, alright?"

Sherlock nodded, his eyes dropping, growing weary from the blood loss. "One more thing. Did you learn how to break a neck in the army."

John headed for the door, "Yes Sherlock," He walked outside, and started to rush south, "I did."


End file.
